They Have Each Other
by avidwriter628
Summary: "They had each other, and that was one thing that was never going to change." Scott/Stiles friendship.


**So, this is my first time writing Teen Wolf fanfiction. I feel like this fandom could use a lot more Scott/Stiles friendship fics, so that's what this is. I just love the relationship between Scott and Stiles. So please review and tell me what you think! I'm also considering turning this into a Stiles/Scott one shot series. **

Stiles Stilinski is an only child. Well, technically. When it comes to living in a fairly big house with his slightly depressed and worrisome father, he doesn't have any siblings. But when he needs something, a favor, advice, or just someone to hang out with, he has Scott. They have each other. It's one of those friendships that comes with an unspoken lifetime guarantee.

That's why Stiles can knock on Scott's window at 11 pm, when his mother is already asleep and he's just mindlessly surfing the web.

Scott slid open the window without questioning his best friend's presence, then said, "What's up?" before returning to his desk chair and swiveling around.

Stiles sighed, closing the window just as a cold gust of air blew in. "Just needed to get out of the house," he explained simply, sitting on the end of Scott's bed.

"Oh." Scott nodded, swiveling back around to face his computer. "Why?"

"My dads been drinking, a lot, and I can't stand to see him like that." Stiles was playing with the buttons on his shirt, trying to occupy his restless hands.

"Your dad's been drinking?" Scott asked, turning around again. Stiles was still playing with the buttons. "A lot?"

"Yeah," Stiles murmured. "Every night." He sighed deeply, laying back on the bed. "I just can't stand watching it anymore."

Scott just nodded and they sat in silence for a while, the only sound coming from the ticking of the clock on the wall.

"Stiles," Scott said suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Hmm?"

"Your dad," he said slowly, still facing the computer. "He doesn't like, hurt you or anything while he's drunk, does he?" Stiles didn't reply for a long time, and Scott quickly turned around in alarm. "Stiles," Scott said again, his voice much more urgent than before.

"Well, no" Stiles began, his breath catching in his throat. He swallowed hard, and Scott stared at him, his brown eyes filled with concern. "I mean he didn't _hurt _me really, he'd never do that." Stiles paused. His breathing was shallow and his eyes were rimmed with tears. "He just got really angry..."

"Stiles," Scott said again, moving to sit next to him on the bed.

"He's never done it before, but he's had so many drinks tonight." Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and let a small shuddering sob escape, much to his dismay. "He was so out of it, he barely even knew who I was."

"I didn't think he was an alcoholic," Scott replied softly, subtly scooching closer to Stiles, attempting to provide some form of comfort.

"He's not. He thinks he's gonna lose his job," Stiles said, his voice quiet and shaky. "And tonight it was just... It was worse."

Scott sighed, his shoulders rising and falling dejectedly. He lifted his legs up on the bed and layed down next to Stiles, so their shoulders were touching. "Why was it worse?" He asked, his voice gentle.

Stiles bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, letting the tears roll down his cheeks. He just told himself that this was Scott, and that he'd actually been there the day his mother died, holding Stiles' little nine year old hand in his slightly larger little nine year old hand. He'd come to the funeral, too, and everyone knew that little nine year old Stiles would have a panic attack if his best friend wasn't there. Scott had even invited Stiles' over on the night of the funeral, when the image of her dead lifeless body wouldn't leave his little nine year old head. They drowned out the images with violent video games and excessive amounts of junk food, then Stiles finally fell asleep with his head on Scott's shoulder. If there was one person on the planet Stiles could cry in front of, it was Scott.

"It's her birthday," he breathed, feeling that horrible tight feeling in his chest that he always gets when he thinks about his mom. "I guess he just kind of lost it or something, I don't know. He's never done this before. Usually, on her birthday, we buy a bouquet of flowers and put them on her grave." Stiles' chest grew tighter with each word. "But he was too drunk ..." He trailed off, choking on another sob.

They were silent for a while, until Scott stood up abruptly, causing Stiles to open his eyes and look over at him. "Come on, get up."

Stiles inhaled deeply and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Where are we going?"

Scott grabbed the sweatshirt hanging on his doorknob, determination plastered on his face. "To the cemetery."

* * *

Stiles stared at the bouquet of yellow flowers laying on the dashboard for a while after he took the keys out. Doing this always kind of scared him a little, and it didn't help that it was nearly midnight. He was normally the first to dive into an adventure, but this particular adventure wasn't going to be that easy. It never was.

"You ok?" Scott asked, breaking Stiles away from his thoughts.

"Yeah, fine," he whispered.

"I know you usually do this with your dad, but-"

"No, no. It's better like this. I can't stand seeing my dad cry." He sighed, reaching for the flowers. Yellow. Her favorite color. "Lets just do it before I change my mind."

"Will you be able to find it in the dark?" Scott asked, as they left the jeep and approached the cemetery gates.

"Yeah," Stiles said, handing Scott the flowers before starting to climb the fence. He threw them over as soon as Stiles was on the other side, then climbed over himself.

Scott was kind of wandering aimlessly, but Stiles seemed to know exactly where he was going, even in the dark. "I used to always get lost coming here when I was little," he explained. "So I memorized how many left and right turns I had to make to get to her grave."

It felt like forever before they finally came to a stop. Scott took out the flashlight he'd put in his pocket and handed it to Stiles, who flipped on the switch and shined it on the grave. He stood for a while and just stared, almost like looking at it was reopening a wound. Finally he kneeled down, but he still didn't place the flowers. "My dad usually does it," he whispered. "Then he talks to her... should I say something?"

Scott kneeled next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it encouragingly. "Tell her something you want her to know," he suggested. "Anything."

Stiles nodded, then slowly and gently placed the bouquet in front of the headstone. " Ok, uh...happy birthday, Mom," he whispered, his eyes beginning to blur with tears. "I miss you. Dad misses you too, a lot." He turned toward Scott, who smiled in encouragement. "I...love you," he concluded. He looked at the headstone a little while longer before standing up, tracing the letters lightly with his finger. Scott's hand was still on his shoulder when he stood up. "Lets go," Stiles whispered.

Scott nodded, and they turned to leave, Stiles leading the way again. They walked in silence for a while, because there was nothing that needed to be said. These were just the kinds of things that best friends did for each other.

"Hey," Scott said, wrapping an arm around Stiles' shoulders. "Lets go back to my house and watch Star Wars."

Stiles looked at him, the corners of his lips twitching up in a smile. The tightness in his chest slowly started to vanish as Scott pulled him into his side, and he wiped away the tear that had rolled down his cheek. They had each other. And that was one thing that was never going to change.

"Dude, are you kidding me?" Stiles said, returning the favor and wrapping an arm around Scott. "You _still_ haven't seen Star Wars?"


End file.
